Looking over our shoulders

May 31, 2009

It has been a wonderful weekend. I believe I've found myself again. Last night I sat in the hammock at dusk and enjoyed the silence for a few minutes. I realized then that I feel like me again. I'm not afraid any more. On the one hand, I felt relieved. But on the other hand, I started to panic a little. How could I go through all that I've been through and everything be the same? I just don't feel like I can let that happen. I don't know how to explain it.

At one point in my recovery I felt like I could understand why people would want to leave and start all over somewhere else after going through some sort of major loss; because you don't want to be around everything that reminds you of the loss, or of your dreams for the future. But there's another reason too. It feels impossible to let life go on being "normal." It just can't be.

Jeremy and I were driving home from running some errands this morning. I looked over at him and said, "Isn't it nice that we don't think about being at the hospital any more." He agreed. It seemed like all we could talk about for months after I got out of the hospital (each time), was our experiences of being in the hospital. I know that's how we processed things. And thank God for the patience of our family and friends in hearing us talk about it all the time. But now it's not just right there over our shoulders any more. It's a speck in the distance as we look back. It might come into focus a little more from time to time, but for the most part we are forward looking now. What a relief.